


Nightmemories

by Bramblemask973



Category: Transformers, Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, MTMTE/LL AU, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 18:07:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20661485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bramblemask973/pseuds/Bramblemask973
Summary: A small drabble that has probably been done many times before where Bumblebee realizes he has not been dealing with things as well as he thought.





	Nightmemories

He knows this place. 

Tyger Pax.

As soon as his optics take in the sight, a cold fear closes itself around his spark. Why is it always here? Why this? He knows why. He knows exactly why his dreams always bring him back here, why he relives this warped horror of a memory most nights. Three nights in the last week. Back to back to back to back…

And he knows what’s coming. It always comes. He can run away from the battle, away from the gunfire and explosions and the screams of his team falling into ash, but it always ends the same. 

That doesn’t mean he’s any less terrified.

Bumblebee takes a few steps forward, looking down over the edge of the platform. There are already craters there, broken spires and supports, bodies crumpled around them like toys. Broken, charred toys. Some are his friends. Those are faces he knows, faces he tried to hard to keep safe. Sparks he would have given his own for, if they hadn’t done it first.

Where had it all gone so wrong? This was his greatest failure. This single battle, in the midst of a billion more, with still a million and a half years to go before the war even comes close to ending. He’d lost so much, and it was this battle that would haunt him. Those million and a half years have passed, and though he reasons with himself that he is laying on his berth, safe and recharging, his spark feels ready to collapse. He knows its a dream. 

It has to be a dream.

_ Please let this be a dream. _

Putting his servos over his face, Bee steps back again, silently urging himself to just wake up. Just wake up! 

“_You_."

And there’s the voice. That one word sends ice through his lines, doors flaring as he whips around and crouches. Apparently he wasn’t getting out of this one -_ its just a dream!_

“You cost me the All Spark. You cost me my _life_ !”

That’s Megatron, but its-- its wrong! Bumblebee stumbles back and away from the approaching bot, nearly tripping over fallen debris. What kind of debris it is, he doesn’t want to think about it. He can’t. The sight of Megatron is enough to send horror through his frame. Purple energon is leaking from the gash in the Decepticon leader’s chest, and his optics are aflame. The image fizzles and suddenly there’s that clawed hand at his throat, slamming him back over the edge of the platform with ease.

One moment and he can be splattered on the ground with the rest of his teammates. Bee wriggles frantically, his servos scrabbling to keep a grip on Megatron’s extended arm. An arm that no longer has a body, because Megatron is beside him, two more very sharp hands reaching up to his face.

“Let me return the favor, _scout_.  You’ll never speak word of this expedition.”

It doesn’t make any sense. The scene is wrong, the words are wrong. Long forgotten and warped by ages of fear and memory. But it's enough. Close enough. He isn’t sure if the shriek that he lets go is in his dream or a memory or real, but as Megatron’s hand closes around his face and lifts his chin, that doesn’t seem to matter. He’s screaming. He is _pleading _ all while that damned hand sinks into his throat, tearing and ripping wires as it hits its mark --

\-- and he falls off his berth and lands rather hard on the floor. Bee flails for a moment, static coming from his throat as he struggles to free himself from the remnants of his dream, finally arranging his limbs in the proper fashion so he can sit up.

Even if he was in real danger right now, beneath the berth wouldn’t protect him from it whatsoever, but it does feel safer to tuck himself down and press his back against the wall. Venting rapidly, Bee’s hand flies to his throat, only pausing as it finds the mark. Phantom pain. That’s what Ratchet would have called it. Or the humans. Someone said those words to him once.

Sure didn’t feel like a phantom.

It takes a moment for him to calm down enough to properly use his voice again. Still works. Isn’t broken. It’s fine. He’s fine. He’s _fine_.

_ I'm fine.  _

_ I'm fine. I'm okay. I'm fine. _

Curling his knees to his chassis and wrapping his arms around them, Bumblebee presses his face against his arms, light shivers going through his form as he softly repeats those two words to himself.

_ I'm fine. _

_ I'm fine. _

_ I'm alive. _


End file.
